


Better Things Ahead

by TotidemVerbis



Series: HBO War One Shots And Drabbles [10]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Brad Gets Hurt, But It's Nothing Too Serious, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Ray is a good friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 06:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13541910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotidemVerbis/pseuds/TotidemVerbis
Summary: Brad shows up at Ray's door, unannounced, and then goes quiet for almost a week. Things can only improve from there, right? Ray's determined to make sure that things get better anyway.





	Better Things Ahead

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a prompt on tumblr, but I wanted to share it here too since it's actually a good length. 
> 
> Story title comes from a quote by C.S. Lewis: _"There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind."_

It’s been six days since Brad showed up on Ray’s doorstep, with nothing but the clothes on his back and a duffel slung over his shoulder, and Ray can count on both hands how many words Brad has said. 

_“Can I crash here for a while?”_ Seven words, the first thing Brad had said when Ray just gaped up at him. 

_“No sugar.”_ Two words, making a total of nine words, said three days ago while Ray was making him a cup of coffee. 

Ray is slowly losing his mind. It’s been five years since Ray left the Marines and subsequently got his brains back, and he’s had minimal contact with his old sergeant over the years. Still, it wasn’t like Ray was going to turn him away. Brad had taken a shower first and then let Ray escort him to his guest room, and he’d passed out before the pizza had arrived. He’d been eerily quiet the next day, but Ray hadn’t pushed him. He remembered what it was like when he first got back, the way nothing felt real, so he decided to give Brad space.

Six days was enough space, right? Brad had barely left the guest room over the past several days, and Ray had a feeling that he only ate when Ray did. Because Ray let Brad stay at the house when he went to work at the garage, and nothing in his house looked changed when he got home. Also, it’s eerie as fuck to see the Iceman look off into space. Ray had even made spaghetti on Day Four and made sure to get most of the sauce down the front of his white tee shirt, but Brad hadn’t said a word. Ray had also noticed the slight limp that Brad had now, the way his old clothes seemed to hang on his thinner frame, and the far-off look in his eyes. 

Today is looking a little more promising though. When Ray got in, Brad was sitting on the couch and watching TV. Well, the TV was on but muted. Ray’s still counting it as progress. Ray had told Brad he was going to scrub the grease off of himself and only received a grunt in reply, and Brad had been sitting in the same place when Ray emerged from the bathroom freshly scrubbed clean and in clean clothes. Just some flannel pants and an old band tee, but he didn’t have plans for the rest of the night so he wasn’t about to get all dressed up. 

So Ray drops down into a recliner that he picked up at a yard sale and looks directly at where Brad is sitting in the middle of the couch. Brad’s looking at the TV, but the flat look in his eyes tells Ray that he’s not really seeing anything. Which is a shame, because there’s a _South Park_ marathon on. Ray even leans forward and snaps his fingers, which only gets Brad to tense up for a moment before he slowly relaxes again. It’s really starting to freak Ray out, and he hates that he doesn’t know how to fix this. There was a time when he could read Brad and know exactly what he needed, but he’s at a loss now. 

“You ever gonna talk to me again, homes? Because, I gotta be honest here, you are scaring the ever-livin’-fuck outta me. Do I need to call for an intervention? Shit, who do I even call? Poke? Nate?” Ray wonders out loud. Something that Ray said triggers a response, because Brad slowly turns his head and looks at Ray. Really looks at him, for the first time in days. 

“Do you want me to leave?” _Fifteen words_. Ray runs his hands over his face in exasperation and even pulls at his hair a little, and he leans forward in his chair and rests his elbows on his knees as he looks right into Brad’s eyes. 

“No, you stupid motherfucker. I want you to stop acting like the robot I know you’re not and just fucking _say something_ ,” Ray stresses. Even Brad’s silences used to speak volumes, but Ray can’t read him at all anymore. It’s not because they haven’t seen each other in a while or any bullshit like that. It’s because Brad’s blocking him out, Ray knows that he is, and he’s tired of it.

“I don’t want to.” Brad’s jaw clenches so hard that it looks painful, and Ray swallows his rising anger. Brad’s obviously messed up about something, so Ray isn’t going to start yelling at him. Not unless he feels like a louder volume is needed to get his frustration across. 

“You don’t have to tell me about whatever the fuck happened to you or why you’re walking with a limp.” Brad’s eyes get a little icier than usual, and Ray’s smile feels sharp. “Yeah, I noticed. Just because I got my brains back doesn’t mean I don’t know how to do any recon. Now, as I was saying before you pulled a bitch-face on me.”

“It wasn’t a bitch-face.” Ray bites the inside of his cheek to keep from actually smiling now, because at least Brad is finally engaging with him, and continues on.

“As I was saying, I’m not asking you to open to me like I’m you’re damned therapist. All I want is a little conversation. I don’t know, just ask me how my day was when I come in or something. Fucking Christ,” Ray finishes and falls back against the chair. 

The room gets silent after that, but Ray can see that Brad is actually thinking his words over so he keeps quiet. He turns to watch the muted TV, because he doesn’t need sound to know what’s going on. He can repeat pretty much every episode of _South Park_ , and he can hear Cartman’s voice in his head while he keeps looking at Brad from the corner of his eye. Watches the way that Brad gnaws on his bottom lip and the way his hands flex against his knees. There’s a commercial on when Brad finally makes a noise, like he’s clearing his throat, but Ray watches as a man dressed as a bunch of grapes dances on the silent screen. He’s got a feeling that Brad will talk a little easier if Ray isn’t staring at him. 

“I’m out.” Brad’s voice sounds almost hollow, no emotion whatsoever, like he’s reading from a script. Ray sucks in a breath and holds it, counts to five, and slowly lets it out. That thought had crossed his mind, but he hadn’t been able to picture Brad as anything but a Marine. He wants to turn to and look at Brad, but he also wants to keep him talking. 

“Never thought you’d leave,” he finally says. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Ray wants to take them back. Because Brad would never choose to leave. 

“Not my choice,” Brad says and confirms Ray’s thoughts. _The limp_. Something happened, something big that Brad’s not talking about, and Ray’s got so many questions bouncing around his head that he wants to ask but knows he can’t. Not yet. So instead he finally turns to look at Brad, and he’s a little surprised that Brad’s already looking directly at him. 

“Okay, alright. We can figure this out, but you gotta start talking more. This whole full silence and staring into space thing is going to give me nightmares. Besides, you know you can always talk to your old pal Ray-Ray.” It’s slow, but Brad smiles at him. It’s almost like he’s forgotten how, like his face doesn’t know how to stretch that way, and it’s not quite the smile that Ray remembers. Doesn’t put little grooves in his cheeks or crinkles next to his eyes, but it’s a start.

**.xXx.**

A few days later, Ray stumbles home covered in grease to find Brad in the kitchen standing over the stove. There’s a mouth-wateringly delicious smell in the air, and Brad looks over his shoulder to let his eyes move over Ray’s body. He immediately tells Ray to get in the shower before he dirties up the whole house, and Ray’s so shocked at the easy tone of Brad’s voice that he moves off to do just that. After a quick shower, he pulls on his pajamas and pads back into the kitchen just as Brad is fixing them both plates. Ray grabs them each a beer while Brad carries the plates into the living room, and they both settle onto the couch to eat the homemade burgers and home-fries that Brad has cooked up.

The TV is up just loud enough that they can hear some of what’s being said, some medical drama, and Ray leans his head back against the couch after putting his plate on the coffee table. He’s stuffed full and tired from working, and it feels awesome to just lay back against his semi-lumpy couch and close his eyes. Brad’s been a little bit better since their talk, he uses actual words instead of grunts now, and he’s even started doing little things around the house. Ray’s been toying with the idea of bringing an old engine home for Brad to play with, the one that no one at the garage can get to work. It’s better than Brad just sleeping or staring off into space. 

“It was an IED.” Brad’s words wash away any relaxation that Ray was feeling, but he keeps his eyes closed and his arms resting against his stomach. If he jumps up and starts asking questions, Brad will probably shut down again. So, for once, Ray keeps his mouth shut and waits Brad out. “I wasn’t in my victor. Got hit by some shrapnel, front of my thigh.”

“The limp?” Ray asks and peeks an eye open. Brad’s looking straight ahead, but he nods as if he knows that Ray is looking at him anyway. So the shrapnel must have hit him in the left thigh, because that’s the leg he’s noticed that Brad has problems with. 

Brad’s wearing a pair of loose basketball shorts, everything is still too loose on him, and he reaches down to tug up the left leg of the shorts. Halfway up his thigh is a thick mess of scar tissue, dark pink and knotted, at least six inches in length. It looks like the wound was deep, and Ray knows enough about anatomy to know that Brad was lucky he didn’t get his femoral artery severed. Ray’s fingers twitch against his sides, like he wants to reach out, but he holds himself still instead. Brad slowly pulls the shorts back down, covering the scar from view, but Ray’s never going to be able to forget. Brad could be considered lucky, it could have been a lot worse, but Ray knows Brad. All he ever wanted was to be a Marine, and now that he can’t be he’s lost. Ray’s going to take care of him though. He’s going to make sure that Brad’s okay.

**.xXx.**

It took Ray three straight days of begging, but a month after Brad showed up at his house he finally gives in. Ray had talked Marcus, a guy that he works with at the garage, into convincing his wife to give Ray a little tutorial on how to give a proper massage to someone with muscle damage. Some days Brad’s limp was worse than others, and Ray knew that Brad would never go somewhere for help. There’d been a chance that he wouldn’t let Ray help him either, but Ray’s relentless when he wants to be. So, after three days of Ray pestering him, Brad gives in.

Which is how they wind up on the couch, with Brad’s back propped up against the arm on one end and Ray sitting a little off center with Brad’s left leg in his lap. His shorts are pulled up enough that Ray can see the entire length of the scar, and he tells Brad to let him know if it becomes too uncomfortable. (He doesn’t say too painful, because Brad’s an ornery motherfucker that’ll never admit to being in pain.) He starts by digging his thumbs into the muscle above the scar and then slowly starts working his way down either side of the scar. He notices the way that Brad keeps his breathing steady and regular, but his brows are drawn in tight as Ray’s thumbs dig down next to the scar itself. 

“Do you ever wish you weren’t who you are?” Brad’s eyes open, and there’s a small haze of pain to them but nothing too serious as he meets Ray’s eyes. 

“What kind of fucked up question is that?” Brad asks him. He almost sounds like his old self. Is it weird that Ray misses the really long insults about his family and white trash ways? Because he kind of does. 

“Think about it, homes. You could be some kind of multi-millionaire by now with your own start-up internet company or some bullshit like that. You could be married with a bunch of little Colberts running around and terrorizing the world. You could be a sea captain sailing on your way to fight a dragon and—”

“Ray.” Just the sound of his name is enough to make Ray stop rambling and to look up, but he’s still pressing his thumbs into the muscle of Brad’s thigh. “I am who I am. There’s no point in imagining a different life.”

“Not even a different life where you could slay the dragon and save the princess?” Ray asks with a wide grin. The pain on Brad’s face has faded as they’ve talked even though Ray’s still carefully massaging around the scar tissue, so the weird conversation starter is working at least. 

“Why does the princess need someone to come save her? Women are perfectly capable of taking matters into their own hands and slaying their own dragons.” Ray nods his head at that, because Brad’s got a good point, and his thumbs dig down just over Brad’s knee. 

“I don’t see why anyone has to kill the dragon. The princess should just befriend the dragon, ride the dragon to whoever locked her up and torch that motherfucker, and rule her kingdom. Because who’s going to try to take over a kingdom guarded by a dragon?”

The conversation continues from there, as they come up with new theories about how they’d fortify their own kingdoms, as Ray finishes the massage. When he’s done, Brad just continues to lie down with both legs thrown over Ray’s lap. It’s the first time that Ray has actually seen Brad relaxed since he first showed up, so Ray doesn’t say anything about the new sitting arrangement. He’s just careful not to jostle Brad’s legs too much as he waves his arms about and tries to explain the benefits of having a moat filled with man-eating alligators.

**.xXx.**

One month and eight days after Brad shows up, Brad announces that he’s going to start taking college classes. He says he’s not sure what kind of degree he wants, but the government is paying for it so he’s going to have fun with it. The college is only a twenty minute drive from Ray’s house, so Ray asks Brad to just keep staying in his guest room. He says some bullshit about Brad helping with the rent, but the truth is that he’s just gotten used to having Brad around. Ray actually likes having his own space, but he doesn’t mind Brad. Brad makes a show of thinking it over, even makes a crack about passing a few hillbilly-infested trailer parks that looked more inviting than Ray’s hovel, but he agrees in the end. (Because Ray does not live in a hovel, thank you very fucking much.)

**.xXx.**

Two months after Brad starts his classes, he’s met all of Ray’s friends and even sounds more like his usual self. They’ve divided up bills and chores at the house, and they’ve somehow managed not to kill each other. Three months of living together and they’re still civil, and Ray’s surprised that they’ve settled into a routine. It’s almost sickeningly domestic, but the truth is that it makes Ray feel relieved to see Brad so normal.

During the week, they’re both up pretty early. Whoever is up first puts the coffee on and scrounges up something for breakfast, and they’re both pretty quiet first thing in the morning. Then Ray goes to work and Brad goes to class, and they don’t see each other until night. Some nights, whoever gets home first will make something for them to eat. Other nights, when they’re both too tired or just feeling lazy, they’ll order something. Weekends are a toss-up. Sometimes Ray’s feeling too lazy to get out and do anything, and Brad sometimes has too much homework to get out and do anything. 

This weekend though, they’re going out to dinner like real adults. In a restaurant and everything! Ray’s wearing his cleanest pair of jeans and a black button-up shirt that he found in the bottom of his closet, but he’s got the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the first few buttons undone. He also brushed his hair and cleaned (most of) the grease out from under his nails. Brad, the asshole, is just wearing a pair of jeans and a dark blue sweater. He somehow looks perfect without even trying, and he’s making it really hard for Ray to ignore the giant crush that he has on the giant. 

(There’s no point in denying it. Ray totally had the hots for his sergeant back in the day, but that crush faded after he got out. He thought it was temporary insanity, until Brad moved in with him. The crush came back full-force after Brad started actually talking to him again, and Ray has to constantly keep his guard up to keep from letting it slip. He’s sure that Brad wouldn’t hate him or anything if he found out, but Ray can’t see him returning the feeling. That, and Ray _likes_ having Brad around. If he finds out about the crush, he might leave and Ray isn’t ready for that yet.)

“Why are we doing this?” Brad asks as they walk towards the restaurant. It’s getting colder at night, and Ray crosses his arms as they get closer to the front door. 

“I thought you liked Marcus and Clarissa?” Marcus is Ray’s favorite work friend, because the dude is pretty chill. Clarissa’s a nurse and totally awesome, she’s the one who taught him how to massage Brad’s scar tissue, and Brad’s met both of them and never had any complaints before. 

“They’re not as annoying as most people,” Brad relents. “I thought we were having a Die Hard marathon tonight.”

“Marcus invited us out, said it was a special night or some shit, so I didn’t want to say no. We can marathon Die Hard tomorrow night.” Brad doesn’t say anything as Ray tells the hostess the name of his party, and he’s already thinking that this place is way too fancy for his low-brow tastes as they’re led to a table in the corner. 

“You made it!” Clarissa yells with a bright smile when she sees them. She jumps up to give them each a hug, Brad first and then Ray, and Ray slides into his chair while shaking Marcus’s hand. Clarissa is still talking to Brad about Brad’s last biology assignment as they sit down, and Marcus and Ray share a long-suffering look as the words the two of them use become longer and longer. 

They keep the conversation light as they order something to drink, then order something to eat, and Ray’s surprised that it doesn’t take them long to get their food. Isn’t there a rule about waiting forever for food? Or are fancy restaurants above that kind of thing? Whatever. Ray just smiles up at their waitress as she places a huge juicy steak in front of him and then he stops just before digging in. Marcus and Clarissa are holding hands on top of the table and smiling a little too widely, and Ray looks over at Brad. Brad’s looking off to the side at something though, so Ray rolls his eyes and faces his friends again. 

“So, guys, what’s up?” Ray finally asks. He can see Brad turning his face forward from the corner of his eye, and Brad looks…a little pissed off. The angry look melts under the intensity of the smiles being directed their way, and Ray’s about two seconds from asking if they’ve been taken over by pod people when they exchange a quick glance. The married couple seems to be communicating with just their eyes, and they turn to look at Ray and Brad at the same time. 

“We’re having a baby!” they announce together. 

“Oh shit! Congratulations!” Ray says first. Clarissa is laughing quietly and Marcus is smiling so wide that Ray’s afraid his face is going to get stuck that way, but Brad still hasn’t said anything. Ray brings his heel down on Brad’s toes and ignores the way that Brad jumps, and Brad clears his throat a little. 

“Uh, congratulations,” he finally says and gives a fake smile. Marcus and Clarissa don’t know him well enough to realize that it’s a fake smile though, so Ray lets it slide. 

The rest of the night consists of Marcus and Clarissa talking about their baby plans and asking their opinions while they strategically eat in between talking, but it’s kind of fun. Ray doesn’t know shit about child-rearing or how to prepare for having a baby in the house, but Marcus and Clarissa are clearly excited and Ray’s happy for his friends. They even get a few sentences out of Brad, and they’re both so high on happiness that they just laugh when Brad outright refuses to babysit. (Ray tells them that he’s all for it, then follows it up with asking how old babies have to be before he can feed them pizza.) Dinner can’t last forever though, and Ray’s licking chocolate cake off of his fork when their waitress shows up with the check. 

“We got it,” Marcus says first. 

“What? No way! Consider this our gift to the three of you,” Ray says and winks at Clarissa. She’s laughing as Ray goes to reach for the check, but Brad grabs it before he can. Ray just shrugs and goes back to cleaning off his fork, because he and Brad take turns paying for stuff all the time, and the waitress walks away a moment later. 

Ray and Brad say their goodbyes to Marcus and Clarissa in the restaurant, because Clarissa says she needs to run to the restroom before they leave, and Brad and Ray start towards the entrance so they can leave. Tonight had been fun, but Ray’s looking forward to putting on his pajamas and lazing around on the couch for the rest of the night. They’re almost to the door when Ray hears someone calling out, “Sir!” He hears Brad sigh as he stops and looks over his shoulder, and their waitress is hurrying towards them. 

“You forgot your receipt,” the waitress says with a small smile. She holds out the folded white receipt to Ray, and he takes it with a confused smile and waves it just a little. 

“Uh, thanks.” The waitress licks her lips and looks like she’s about to say something else, but Brad grabs Ray’s upper arm and starts pulling him out of the restaurant. They’re halfway across the parking lot, with Brad still dragging Ray along, when Ray finally pulls his arm out of Brad’s grasp and starts walking on his own. “Didn’t you pay with cash?”

“Yes.” It sounds like Brad forced the word out from between clenched teeth, and Ray raises the receipt up to his eye-line. Written on the back of it, in large print, is a line of numbers and the name _Mandy_. 

“Huh. Think she meant to give this to you?” Ray asks as he unlocks his truck. He pulls himself up into the driver’s seat and then listens as the passenger door slams, and he’s already rolling down the highway when Brad finally answers. 

“She was checking you out all night,” Brad says while looking out of his window. Ray hadn’t noticed their waitress checking him out, but he hadn’t been paying attention either. He’d been more interested in hearing his friends’ good news, but he can’t understand why Brad’s acting so upset. Unless… _ha_!

“Are you jealous?” Ray can barely contain his laughter, amusement is coloring his every word, and he hears Brad snort quietly. “Admit it, Iceman. You’re jealous that someone looked at you and still thought I was hot. Come on, tell Ray-Ray the truth.”

“Knock it off, Ray.”

“Ha! This is really bugging you! You’re jealous because the waitress thought I was hot!” Ray’s full-on laughing now, he can’t help himself, and he watches as Brad turns his head to glare at the side of his face. 

“That’s not why I’m jealous, Ray.” There’s something about the low tone of Brad’s voice that makes Ray stop laughing immediately, and he flicks his eyes over to look at Brad. He can’t look too long, because he’s driving, but a quick look is all he needs to see the intense look in Brad’s eyes. 

“Not jealous because you wanted the waitress?” Ray asks. He already knows the answer though, doesn’t he?

“No, Ray.” Okay, Brad really needs to stop saying his name like that. It’s fucking with his head. 

“So you were jealous because?” Now he can see the edge of Brad’s smile from the corner of his eye, but Brad turns away so that he can look out of the window again. 

“Figure it out, Ray.”

The rest of the drive after that is silent, but Ray’s mind is anything but. His head’s always kind of loud, thoughts bouncing all over the place, but this is different. Because what Brad is implying…he can’t be implying that. If Brad wasn’t jealous of the waitress, then that means he was jealous over Ray. Right? That’s the only scenario that makes sense with what Brad just said, but that doesn’t make any sense at all because Brad’s totally not into him. _He’s not_. Right? Brad would have said something by now if he was, except…no, Brad wouldn’t have said anything. After that whole fiancé dumping him for his best friend bullshit, Brad’s been anti-relationships. He’s got the worst cases of commitment phobia and trust issues that Ray’s ever seen, so of course he’d never tell anyone that he had any kind of mushy feelings for them. Which means that all of this is up to Ray. 

His truck is parked in the driveway and they’re at the front door by the time Ray has this realization, and he finishes unlocking the front door to let them inside. He lets Brad walk in ahead of him, and his eyes move over Brad’s back as he walks farther into the house. He’s started putting more weight and muscle on, so his broad shoulders actually fill out the sweater he’s wearing. His limp is barely even noticeable, now that he’s actually seeing a physical therapist and still letting Ray gave him a massage a couple of times a week. He’s almost the same Iceman that Ray remembers from the desert, but he’s a little more open too. Not quite as rough around the edges. 

Which is probably the only reason why Ray takes several long strides forward and grabs Brad’s elbow just as he’s walking in front of the couch. He can see Brad’s eyes widening as Ray pushes at the center of his chest and gets him to sit on the couch, and Ray quickly follows him down. Doesn’t let himself think about it too much as he straddles Brad’s lap and fists the front of his sweater in his hands, and Brad just looks at him with a blank face and wide eyes. 

“You like me.” Brad just raises a brow, but Ray can feel how fast his heart is racing. “Come on, say it.”

“Make me.” There’s a challenge in Brad’s eyes now, and Ray tightens his grip as he leans down. 

Brad’s lips are a little chapped but soften after Ray’s tongue licks at them, and Brad tastes like the chocolate dessert he’d had at dinner. Ray can feel Brad’s large hands on his hips as he raises up to kiss Brad deeper, until all he can taste is _Brad_ , and he makes a quiet sound as Brad’s hands slip under his shirt and over his back. He’s pulled forward until their fronts are pressed together, and Ray moves his arms around Brad’s neck as he leans back and nips at Brad’s bottom lip. The sound Brad makes causes heat to rush through him, and Ray has to have one more taste before he can bring himself to pull back. 

“Say it, or I’m going to bed alone tonight.” Ray says the words against the corner of Brad’s mouth, and he reaches up to tighten his fingers in the back of Brad’s longer hair when he tries to turn his head for a kiss. Brad lets out a deep sound of frustration as Ray holds him still, and Ray places a sweet kiss against Brad’s cheek as he waits. Finally, Brad sighs and moves his hands to grip Ray’s sides under his shirt. 

“Yes, Ray, I like you.” Ray leans back with a loud _whoop_ and fist pumps the air, and Brad’s annoyed look fades as he smiles. Smiles wide enough to cause small grooves in his cheeks and puts little crinkles next to his eyes. 

“Then what are you waiting for? Let’s go!” Ray jumps off Brad’s lap and starts running towards his bedroom, and he can hear Brad right behind him. Looks like Ray won’t be going to bed alone tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> A little bit angsty at the beginning, but total fluff at the end because I just can't help myself. Thank you for reading!


End file.
